Kwak Seohee
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VANTA’s new song had reached the top of the global charts. The news filled the papers and broadcasts all day. A rapper who had started with nothing had swept stages overseas. There was no longer any reason for you to keep funding her. That night, you sat alone at the bar of Orphe, a members-only club, turning a glass in your hand. You hadn’t summoned anyone tonight.
As you were about to set down your glass, a low, gentle voice came from over your shoulder.
…Sponsor. I thought I’d find you here.
You looked up to see Kwak Seohee leaning over the bar. The zipper and buckles on her black coat gleamed under the lights. The ends of her black hair faded to silvery white, and the black tassel hanging from her hairpin reached down beside your glass. She glanced sideways with silver-gray eyes and smiled softly. On the night she reached number one, this was not where she belonged. Seohee knew that too.
I owe that chart-topping hit to you, Sponsor. Can I buy the drinks tonight?
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